


Ready for Love

by DasMervin, MrsHyde (DasMervin)



Series: The Writing on the Wall [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assertive Castiel, Begging, Blow Jobs, Cas thinks Dean is awesome too, Cock Tease, Cockteased Castiel, Come Swallowing, Confused Castiel, Dean Thinks he's awesome, Dean is a Tease, Emotional Constipation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frantic Sex, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Human Castiel, Internalized Homophobia, Lube, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Coital Cuddling, Screaming Orgasm, Slash, Smug Dean, Surprise Sex, Teasing, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/DasMervin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/MrsHyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone on a hunt, Cas tries taking the lead, and Dean pays him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready for Love

_September 2019_

Dean hated research. But he hated _hours_ of research more. And he hated hours of _pointless_ research that turned up jack shit the most.

So, naturally, all he’d been doing for the past five hours was pointless research that was turning up jack shit.

The ghost they were dealing with was of the vengeful spirit variety, definitely—but the hunt had promptly stalled when they’d found out the location of the remains of said spirit were unknown. The ghost, unfortunately, was a Union soldier during the Civil War, so that meant trying to find out any possible place his body could have wound up. And that was how what looked like a regular salt-and-burn hunt turned into sitting around poring over old records and scrolling through useless websites on the internet about battles that had gone down in this area.

Dammit. He’d volunteered himself and Cas for this because he’d thought it would be simple! But no, it had already stretched out an extra day longer than he thought it would’ve taken, and now he had a headache. If he had to look at one more record of a dead Civil War soldier, he was gonna blow his own brains out.

‘Course, Cas wasn’t having any problems. He was the one who’d definitely pegged it as a ghost in the first place—powered down though he may have been, he still had a “speck of angel,” as he’d once said, and when they’d investigated the crime scene of the latest murder, he’d…seen stuff. Cas had once tried to explain what it looked like to him, but the way he talked, Dean figured it was like trying to explain to a blind man what the color blue was. Point was, he knew it was a ghost because he saw…whatever weird shit ghosts left behind that ex-angels could see. And now that they were researching, he was just quietly doing his thing, reading book after book, paper after paper, article after article, and all without complaint. Dean knew he wouldn’t complain, though, both from personal experience and the fact that living with workaholic Bobby had pretty much made Cas think long hours of research this pointless and rigorous was normal.

Heaving an aggravated sigh, Dean slammed his laptop shut, leaning his elbow on the table as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Are you all right, Dean?”

Dean didn’t bother looking up. “Yeah. I’m just great. I love running around in circles for hours on end and finding nothing on what we’re looking for,” he replied sourly.

“We’ll find the remains eventually,” Cas said reassuringly.

“I know that,” Dean groused. “I just…shit, man, I’m tired of this, my head hurts, and I just wanna catch a break for once. This was supposed to be simple.”

Cas didn’t reply, and Dean was glad he didn’t—he didn’t want reassurances, he just wanted a pile of old bones he could torch.

For a few minutes, they were silent—there was the sound of the occasional keystroke across from him, but Dean barely noticed. He just kept pressing the heels of his palms against his eyelids, willing his headache to go away. It wasn’t one of the really painful ones—just one of those dull throbbing ones that made his eyes feel hot but had the potential to _get_ bad if he kept staring at random useless facts about random useless soldiers he didn’t give a crap about.

He was so caught up in willing his headache to go away that he didn’t even notice that Cas had moved until he snuck right up on him.

Dean jumped a little when he felt fingers wrapping around his wrists and then jerkily glanced up, blinking as Cas pulled his hands away from his face. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell he was doing when Cas easily silenced him by kissing him, his tongue already out and dipping between his lips, and Dean was way too surprised and a little confused to do anything but let him all but climb in his lap. Dean grunted as a thigh pressed between his own, nudging back and forth, creating familiar pressure on his dick, and Cas skimmed his hands down Dean’s neck.

He finally snapped out of it when Cas started reaching for Dean’s fly, but he didn’t get his throat to work until he’d unbuttoned his jeans and was pulling down the zipper. “Cas,” he blurted out, tearing his mouth away from Cas’s, but Cas just kept his lips near his. “Cas—what the hell—we’re—”

“Shh,” Cas breathed, and any other words Dean had just dried up. “Let me. Please.”

And then Cas slid down to the floor, dragging his fingers and his body down Dean’s, pushing Dean’s thighs farther apart as he did, and Dean found that he had zero protests—on his scale, surprise blowjobs ranked much, _much_ higher than pointless research.

Dean lifted his hips as Cas tugged his pants and shorts down a tad, freeing his already half-hard cock, and he sank lower in his chair as Cas squeezed and stroked him with one hand, leaning up again to lick his throat and once more brush his lips against Dean’s. It took zero time to get him up, and then Cas was rocking back on his knees, his hands pushing against Dean’s inner thighs, and Dean was almost quivering with anticipation now.

Cas looked up at him again, his hand low on Dean’s cock, and Dean gripped the arms of his chair tightly when Cas leaned down and licked him from base to tip, staring up at him the _whole time_ , and Dean’s head fell back as his eyes closed when he was suddenly in that hot, wet, sucking, _amazing_ mouth.

He kept himself still, letting Cas set the pace, which was a deceptively easy rhythm; it wasn’t fast, but it was _relentless_. He kept sucking, steady and even, and one hand massaged his balls and the other slipped beneath Dean’s shirt, and Dean let out an explosive exhale as skillful fingers brushed across one of his nipples at the same time the fingers cupping his sack squeezed gently and Cas’s tongue swirled around the tip of his cock. Mother _fuck_ , he had no right to be this good—and he’d barely gotten started! But it was always like that, wasn’t it? Every goddamn time, Cas just skipped the formalities and immediately went in for the kill, and every time it was awesome—and every time was _way too many_ times. Dean still could hardly believe that he was actually feeling at all _peeved_ about livin’ the dream of being with someone who wanted to give blowjobs as much as Cas did, but he was. And it was all Cas’s fault—he never gave him a fucking _break_. Dean had called it that first night: he let Cas give him head _once_ , and now the bastard wanted to give him head _all the fucking time_. But at least they’d reached a happy little compromise—Cas wouldn’t try to suck him off every time they fooled around, and Dean wouldn’t _deny_ him his little pleasure, lest he get so worked up for a hit off of Dean’s cock that he suffered from angelic emission or some shit.

Dean grunted and his eyes opened when Cas suddenly went deep, and he looked down, squeezing the armchair hard. Jesus Christ, it always turned him on more to watch when Cas did this—Cas’s head in his lap, sucking him off, and he would glance up at him—oh, _fuck_ yes, just like that. He wanted to tell Cas to slow down, to stop throwing down all the best moves first, but goddammit, he couldn’t seem to talk, not with Cas slowly pulling back like that, making Dean shudder.

The festivities were briefly paused when Cas hooked his fingers in the waistband of his jeans and shorts again and pulled them down further, and once he had everything down around Dean’s knees he was back, and Dean groaned when he sucked his balls, just like he liked it, and he shivered and jumped when Cas’s thumb gently stroked at the slit in the head of his cock, also just like he liked it. His thumb was soon replaced by his tongue, lapping over and over, _pushing_ all up into it, and he didn’t stop until Dean was shaking. “Fucking _hell_ , Cas,” Dean groaned, and then he groaned again, mindlessly, and couldn’t help but rock his hips as Cas took him all down again, his tongue stroking the underside of his dick every time.

Dean’s hands found their way to Cas’s hair, and he struggled to not grip too tightly, not to try to force him, but he was already losing his mind. The tension and heat in his gut was getting tighter and hotter already because Cas was not going slow, had not _started_ slow, and dammit, Dean prided himself on being able to last a good long while in bed, but Cas was _tenacious_ , and when he set his mind to it, he could make him go off like a fifteen-year-old virgin. He was both relieved and disappointed when Cas pulled away again to take a breath, but his hand was still on him and jerking him tight and deliberately. He was looking up at him again, his gaze fixed and intense, and all Dean could do was stare helplessly back, struggling to figure out some possible way he could calm himself down to make this last longer than he thought it was gonna be, because jizzing after only a few minutes would be downright humiliating.

But Cas seemed to know, because his hand slowed and his grip loosened. Dean closed his eyes again and leaned his head back, unconsciously sliding even lower in his seat as he felt wet lips and soft little licks start sliding all up and down his cock as a hand slipped up under his shirt again to press against his ribs. If he could just get that heat down to a simmer, he’d be good. But those licks were maddening…little bastard probably knew it, too.

He was just starting to contemplate what unpleasant images he could start thinking about to take his mind off of what was going on south of the border when the hand under his shirt disappeared. He had enough time to glance down before the fingers around the base of his cock tightened and his balls were seized and his breath was snatched away from him because Cas was sucking him off again, hard and fast, his tongue twisting, his hands working in tandem with his mouth.

“Shit— _Cas_ —you—” Dean stuttered, writhing under the onslaught, but Cas didn’t stop, and just like that any progress he might’ve made with calming down was gone, and his fingers tightened in Cas’s hair as he couldn’t help but thrust his hips in time with Cas’s movements. He was dimly aware that he was moaning, sucking in hissing breaths through his teeth with every inhale, and—oh fuck, the way he _hmmed_ on the downstroke, goddammit, he _knew_ that Dean loved that, and it was hot, and that sucking pressure was so _hard_ , and—

Dean gave up. There was no way he could hold off, not with this relentless pace, not with Cas _so determined_ to get him off, so he stopped trying, and he could feel his balls tightening already as he thrust faster, and he felt Cas take his squeezing hand away from his cock just so he could take him deeper— _oh God, close_ —

“Cas—I—” Dean’s voice was a wheeze, but Cas seemed to hear it anyway, because he abruptly grabbed Dean’s hips and yanked him forward, deep-throating him even as he sucked harder, _faster_ , and with a howl Dean came, his back arching upwards, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but _feel_ Cas, still _sucking_ , swallowing, stop was he ever going to stop?!

Dean slowly relaxed down into his chair, limp and struggling to catch his breath as Cas pulled his mouth away from the head his cock. He hissed when Cas grabbed him—gently, this time—and twitched and shuddered when Cas started licking him again, and he looked down in time to realize that the kinky bastard was _licking him clean_.

What the hell was he trying to do, turn him on again immediately after a go? Well, if he wasn’t careful, it’d actually work!

But it didn’t last long. He stopped after only a few seconds of that, and then looked contentedly up at Dean from the floor. Dean had no words; he couldn’t think of a single time Cas had just jumped him like that—and now that he had, he found that he really didn’t have any objections to it, not even caring that Cas had just effectively gone first, something he never liked doing because Cas always wore him the fuck out.

Cas braced himself on the arms of Dean’s chair and rose up on his knees, leaning up and leisurely closing the distance between them to kiss him again, the taste of come still lingering on his tongue. He always did that, just how Dean liked it, because he did everything how Dean liked it. When his mouth finally disappeared, Dean opened his eyes again as Cas kissed his neck, nuzzling him a little.

“Do you feel better, Dean?” Cas asked softly.

Dean snorted. “Do you really need an answer to that?” he replied weakly.

He felt Cas smile against his skin, just that little twitch of his lips that somehow seemed like a grin when it was on Cas’s face, and then he was kissed again, both of them sighing contentedly this time.

Cas pulled away, trailing his fingers along his chair, standing up and stepping back as if he was admiring his handiwork, and dammitall, Dean was still too dazed to properly scowl at him for looking so self-satisfied, as well as too dazed to care that he was sitting there with his junk hanging out in front of him. Cas didn’t spend long staring soppily down at him though, instead turning to wander back over to his own side of the table and settle back down in his chair.

Dean blinked.

Cas was sitting in his own chair. He was scrolling through something on his computer. He was not looking at Dean anymore. He was acting like he hadn’t just crawled over and given him a blowjob. He was—

_No. He wasn’t._

Yeah. He totally was. He’d sucked Dean off, and now he was just _going back to his research_.

_That sorry son of a—_

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean demanded, finally reaching down and pulling his shorts back up, but not his jeans.

Cas looked up over the top of his laptop, a bit startled, and then his expression turned confused. “I still have an archive to look through—” he started.

“Oh no—no, no, and _more_ no,” Dean cut him off, standing up too fast and wobbling a little—dammit, his legs were still shaky. He hitched up his jeans with one hand so they wouldn’t fall around his ankles and trip him. “This is _so_ not happening,” he snarled, stomping over to him.

Now Cas was looking concerned as well as confused, and both got worse when Dean reached down, grabbed his arm, and yanked him to his feet. “Dean, I was just—” he stammered.

“Shut up,” Dean growled, dragging him the short distance between the table and the bed and then slinging him down on top of it. He landed with a grunt, and when Dean all but jumped on him, his forehead smoothed out and Dean spotted a spark of understanding in his eyes. “You are not _blowing_ me and then just going back to business,” Dean added forcefully, and then he grabbed him by the hair and kissed him hard.

Cas was already clinging back, his arms tight around Dean’s waist and one hand sliding under his loose jeans to squeeze his ass. Dean broke the kiss just so he could put a stop to Cas’s handsy shenanigans, reaching down and jerking his shirt up, forcing him to let go and allow Dean to tear the thing off of him. He flung Cas’s shirt aside, and to avoid getting groped again, Dean wasted no time in assaulting all the bare skin he’d just exposed, his hands stroking firmly down his sides and across his stomach as he sought out every single place he knew would make Cas go crazy. He knew he was being a little more _vicious_ than Cas was used to, but he was gonna make that punk see just who was in charge here, and teach him that he wasn’t supposed to just _give away_ free head! And more importantly, that Dean didn’t just _take_ free head, dammit!

Hands were scrabbling at his shoulders, knotting into his shirt, and he was suddenly being tugged upwards and back to Cas’s mouth; he was satisfied by the fiery kiss he got—good, hadn’t taken long to get him worked up. But then he scowled a little when his shirt started getting yanked again—why the hell did he need to take off his shirt? Well, fine—he’d make a concession. He pulled it off for Cas and fell back on top of him, pinning Cas down and biting hard on his neck as he licked at the same spot, thrusting a knee between Cas’s thighs and grinding against his hard-on and getting a low, explosive groan for his efforts. Cas’s arms were like a vice around him, one hand fisted in Dean’s hair and holding his mouth to his throat, his breath coming in quick little pants, and he was pretty much humping Dean’s leg. It really was funny how Cas could go from zero to horny in under five seconds.

Heaving himself backwards, he reached down and undid the button on Cas’s jeans before unzipping them, hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling his pants off, and Dean found himself glad that Cas almost always took off his shoes and socks when he knew he’d been in a room for longer than thirty minutes because he was a weirdo. Well, he didn’t have to bother with them, which was nice. Once more, he didn’t pause, simply whipping a hand down the front of Cas’s shorts and seizing him in a tight grip, and Cas jerked against him and flailed around until he was gripping Dean’s upper arms tightly as Dean sharply tugged him, hard and fast. His eyes were closed, his breath short and rapid, and his hips were driving against Dean’s hand. What Cas did _not_ know was that Dean was timing things—oh, so Cas thought he was just gonna get a quick handjob, huh, _then_ it’d be back to work? Well, Dean was gonna show him what he got for thinkin’.

He only did it for about half a minute before he just stopped everything, letting him go and grabbing his hip to pin him down to the bed for a moment. Cas’s eyes flew open and he glanced wildly up at Dean, his mouth still hanging open, his entire body trembling, and then Dean released him entirely, rolling away and going for his hunting bag. Yes, time to get out the lube again.

Dean felt the bed shifting when he got into the pocket he needed to, but one minute he was coming back up to continue the assault on Cas and the next there were hands on his shoulders yanking him around and _goddamn_ , Cas had gone completely insane, shoving Dean down on his back and what the hell, he was trying to rip his damn pants off!

“ _Cas!_ ” Dean barked, sitting back up as quickly as he could so he could flip them back over and kiss the bastard into submission. It worked—once he had him on his back and his tongue back down Cas’s throat, he kissed him until he stopped clawing at his shoulder blades, which was basically until he couldn’t _breathe_ anymore. He finally broke away and Cas gasped for air, because even after all these years Cas never got the hang of multitasking kissing and breathing. Dean used the opportunity to get away from him once more and, after setting his lube down next to him, sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to quickly undo the laces of his boots. Just ‘cause he’d already gotten off this time around didn’t mean he couldn’t be comfortable.

He’d managed to kick out of his boots when Cas, apparently revitalized, launched another attack, and this time he was armed. Skinny arms snaked around his torso, and Dean grunted when he felt teeth sink into the spot where his neck met his shoulder, and Cas was all but dragging him back into bed.

“Cas—dammit—” No, Cas didn’t hear that, and Dean was on his back and Cas was trying to climb on top of him now, and this would not do. Sweet Jesus, this was _so_ not happening, not no way, no how—Cas was _rabid_ , and Dean was going to have to do something about it _now_.

Mustering his strength, he grabbed Cas by the arms and flipped them once more, forcing Cas back down into the mattress where he belonged, and then he kissed him, using all ways he knew to counter Cas’s open-mouthed warfare. Cas was straining against him, his fingers grabbing at everything he could reach and still trying to push Dean’s pants off of his hips, but he wasn’t gonna even risk taking those off until Cas calmed the fuck _down_. Holy hell, he hadn’t been this bad since they’d first started up these little romps.

Dean groped around until he got his fingers clamped around Cas’s wrists, pinning his hands up by his head, pressing his body harder against Cas and kissing him deeper but slower, keeping his leg between Cas’s but not moving it or letting Cas hump him again. He kept it up, still going as Cas starting to stop shaking and twitching, his breathing becoming less frantic, and finally, after Dean decided it was safe, he pulled slowly away from Cas’s lips, dragging his mouth gently down to rest against where he could feel Cas’s pulse hammering against his throat.

“You gonna calm down now?” Dean murmured.

He felt Cas swallow. “Yes,” he wheezed.

“Good,” Dean whispered, licking a little behind Cas’s ear and pulling back, staring down at him. He was flushed and trembling and it obviously would take very little to get him back into his “mindless rut” setting, but right now he wasn’t moving. Dean finally let him go, dragging his fingertips along Cas’s skin and sitting up, his knee still pressed against Cas’s groin. He paused, almost waiting to see if Cas was only faking it and was about to jump up and bite him again, but he didn’t; he remained passive, watching Dean with that intense stare of his. So Dean swung off of him, looking around briefly to find where the lube had gotten off to after that.

It hadn’t gotten kicked off of the bed, fortunately, but it had wound up under Cas’s thigh. After retrieving it, he set it aside again and slid his fingers into the elastic of Cas’s shorts, pulling them off slowly. Dean kept a stern gaze on him the whole time, so Cas didn’t try to jump out of his clothes; he let Dean undress him at the pace Dean wanted, and didn’t do much more than twitch when Dean’s fingers and the fabric of his shorts brushed over his erection on the way, despite the fact that it was clearly driving him insane. Dean dropped that last article of clothing on the floor and then finally started unscrewing the top of the lube, taking his time with that, too. Oh, Cas had no idea what was in store for him. Just as well.

Once he had his handful, he lay back down on his side next to him before reaching down and wrapping his hand around Cas’s prick, slicking him up good, and giving his balls a rubdown, too. He wanted a nice wet canvas to work with before he got started—not that doing this wasn’t giving Cas a good time. He pushed insistently against Dean’s hand, reaching for Dean again and sighing, rolling over on his side as he did and trying to cling to him.

Dean reached up and pushed back, making him lie down on his back again. “You stay where you are,” he ordered, and knew that Cas would do as he was told because that’s just what he did when Dean issued an order, especially in bed. Once Cas was back where Dean wanted him, he gripped his cock tightly and started jerking him again, not as fast as he did the first time, but fast and abruptly enough to make Cas let out a little girly whimper and knot the sheets in his hands. Again, he didn’t let up, staring down at Cas and enjoying his thrashing, then leaning down to suck gently at his throbbing pulse. Cas grabbed at his hair, holding him there, and Dean breathed softly against his wet skin.

And yet again, Dean only kept up his motions for a minute before stopping cold.

Cas made a low whining sound that Dean almost laughed at. “Dean,” he panted, obviously wanting to roll closer and thrust his hips against his curled fingers, but Dean had told him not to (and besides, he was pinned). “Dean, I—”

“No,” Dean muttered, rubbing his cheek against Cas’s before resting his mouth against his. “It’s my turn. You tell me when you’re close, you hear me?”

Cas just nodded, his eyes shut, and Dean resumed his actions at an easier pace, occasionally sliding his thumb across the head of his cock and dragging his fingers down to stroke his sack. He watched him closely, in case he decided not to give Dean the high-sign and cheat. He was quiet, just panting as he rocked his hips in time with Dean’s hand, staying on his back while Dean sat propped up on his elbow, looking for all of those familiar signs that Cas was about to come.

But it turned out he didn’t need to—Cas was a good little soldier this time. Dean could tell he was definitely close, the way his movements were getting frantic and how his grip on his upper arm was tightening and how he was starting to arch upwards. “Dean,” he moaned, “you—”

He didn’t stop cold, but he did slow down quickly until he had Cas motionless and restrained by the base of his prick, his grip tight, and man, just watching Cas shiver and try to thrust against him was stoking a fire low in his belly—and so soon after he’d already gotten off, too.

“Dean—please—” he panted.

Oh, no fair, pulling out the begging this early. No, he wasn’t gonna give in, no matter how hot that was. He leaned down, brushing his lips against Cas’s. “Shh. Trust me,” he whispered.

His fingers flexed as Dean kissed his jaw. “I—”

“Wanna come, yeah, I know. But you’re not gonna. Not yet.” He nuzzled Cas’s neck, feeling his Adam’s apple bob up and down, dropping light kisses and tiny licks all across his skin, just barely stroking Cas’s dick with his thumb, his every touch making Cas quiver. Dean sucked on the thin skin over his collarbone, knowing he was probably leaving a hickey but who cared, nobody would see it if it was there. God knew Cas had left enough hickeys on him in their escapades, usually on his stomach.

He didn’t stop doing what he was doing until Cas had stopped shaking so hard and Dean was confident that he could do more than lightly touch him without him going off like a firework. He leaned back up and kissed Cas, long and deep, while he reached down between his thighs and slid his fingers all the way from his balls to the head of his cock before rubbing his palm there in slow, easy circles, making Cas groan against his mouth.

“Oh, so you like that,” Dean murmured. He, of course, knew Cas liked that, but he was entertaining himself.

“Yes,” Cas answered, all breathy and rapturous.

“You want me to keep doing it?” Dean continued.

Cas made a noise that was probably an affirmative.

So, of course, Dean stopped, and savored the frustrated grunt he got as a result. “Why?” he asked, just touching him with his fingertips.

Cas opened his eyes again and Dean nearly laughed at the indignant, cockteased half-glare he was getting—because it was totally undercut by how flushed, desperate, and horny he looked otherwise. “Because it _feels good_ , Dean—” he managed, but he didn’t manage anything else because Dean pressed a finger against the slit at the head of his prick again, pressed hard this time, stroking repeatedly and making Cas gasp and shudder and forget he’d been told to stay put, and he pulled Dean closer to him, leaning up to bury his head against Dean’s throat.

“I know it does, dumbass,” Dean said, and then curled his fingers around Cas’s cock again and started up a slow jerk, deciding to allow Cas to cling to him this time.

He waited until he could feel Cas rocking his hips in time with his own motions before he started slowing down, making Cas take the initiative. He didn’t disappoint, thrusting harder against Dean’s hand until Dean was pretty much still and Cas was fucking the circle of his fingers, and Dean liked the soft little noises he made with every push forward way too much. Mmm—and now Cas was kissing and sucking at his neck, his hand knotting in his hair. He was tempted to put him back in his place now, but he figured Cas was having a good time—he’d let him enjoy it for a minute or two before yanking the rug out from under him again.

After some deliberation, he starting squeezing, timing it so that his hand tightened every time Cas thrust against him. He could tell Cas loved it, pulling against his shoulders as he went, starting to throw his whole body into it like he always did when he got really excited. And Dean let him, still making Cas do almost all of the work, smirking as Cas clung tighter to him, mashing his body up against Dean, unwittingly making it all the easier for when Dean planned on pinning him again. All it’d take was a simple little roll in the right direction…

And Dean decided that the way he’d just arched up against him and gasped his name was the high-sign and did just that, rolling Cas onto his back and pinning him down with his weight, gripping Cas’s prick low and tight.

He was vaguely surprised (and mildly offended) that Cas did not follow the appropriate code of conduct when it came to this sort of thing and immediately started thrashing, flailing around and trying to push Dean off of him and grab at his wrists at the same time. “Dean—please—” he was hissing, “I can’t—”

“I know you can’t—that’s the idea,” Dean cut him off, and the little jackass was still writhing, dammit! Who did he think he was?

“Dean, _no_ , please—I’m—” he panted, shoving at his shoulders with more force than someone that scrawny should be able to, and Dean finally had enough and sat up quickly before straddling Cas’s upper thighs, both out of reach of his pushing hands and pinning him more effectively than before and was about to reach up and press his hand against Cas’s chest to make him sit back, but then he saw that that left Cas’s hands free, and—no, he seriously wasn’t—

“You cut that out!” Dean commanded, batting his hands away from where the little perv had been trying to just grab his own dick. “You wanna go blind?”

“ _Dean, this—_ ”

“—is something you’ll thank me for later!” he said forcefully. “Don’t be a wimp, this isn’t gonna kill you. Just do as I say, dammit.”

Dean stared hard down at him, completely still with his free hand pushing firmly down against his torso, his fingers tight around his prick, and finally Cas settled down a bit, still panting, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands fisted so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. It gave Dean a little time to observe that this probably looked really damn ridiculous, him on top of Cas with a handful of divine rod, but whatever. He contemplated jumping off of Cas for a moment to take off his jeans, because they were still open and low-slung and he was actually semi-hard from everything that had been going on, but he figured that wasn’t safe. God knew what Cas would do if he got loose.

After what seemed like forever, Cas calmed down and opened his eyes again. Dean took his hand off of Cas’s chest and let him prop himself up on his elbows, and Dean just smirked down at the frustrated, horny, decidedly _pissy_ glare he was getting. But he didn’t focus on that for long—time to start again.

For the hell of it, he grabbed the lube and squirted a small extra shot into his palm and rubbed his hands together. He didn’t wanna jerk him immediately again, though—since Cas was already completely wrecked after just three hard starts-and-stops, he figured the fourth would be the last one and wanted to have some fun before finishing. So instead, he traced the lines of his hips with two fingers, then stroked as high as he could go along Cas’s inner thighs, glancing up to watch how Cas’s head fell backwards, his jaw unhinged. While he was there, he slid his fingers down to rub up behind Cas’s balls because he knew Cas liked it (though he himself wasn’t particularly comfortable poking around back there). He felt Cas’s legs twitch a little beneath him, but he stayed still for the most part.

“There,” Dean said smugly. “See? It’s not that hard to sit there and take it.”

Cas’s head came up again and he looked like he was about to say something, but Dean shut him up by slipping the hand between his thighs forward to cup his balls and grabbed his prick with the other. He took advantage of Cas sitting up like he was to lean down to kiss him softly, catching his lower lip with his teeth as he pulled away, and then he set his hands in motion and thought how he would never, ever tire of hearing Cas moan like that.

He supposed it should bug him more than it did, what with how ambidextrous he’d become when it came to juggling jewels at the same time he was beating meat, but so long as Cas kept making those sounds, it was okay and he’d live. He twisted his hand as he slid it up and down, his other hand squeezing rhythmically, and he kept his eyes on Cas’s face while Cas just stared at Dean’s working hands like he couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on down there. Dean rolled his eyes in response and let go so he could stroke along Cas’s prick with one finger, circling the tip and taking a little time to hit the sweet spot again and make Cas shiver before going back to the usual firm grip.

This position did have some benefits, he conceded. He wasn’t…too fond of it, because, well, he looked like he was riding Cas cowgirl. But he didn’t have to stretch or twist his hands in weird ways—and still had a lot more range of motion, in fact—and he could easily watch Cas’s trembling, tortured expressions the whole time, and that was hot. It was also hot how well he had him secured on the bed, because having Cas at his mercy was mighty fine. And if Cas didn’t agree, Dean would make him. It wasn’t Dean’s fault Cas didn’t get teasing.

Dean kept it slow for a bit, but he knew if he kept this up his arms would start getting tired. _Time for a grand finale, I think_ , he smirked to himself, and he leaned forward and unleashed the beast, his fingers firm and his fist pumping rapidly, and Cas whimpered loudly and shot up until he was propped up on his palms, shaking uncontrollably and Dean savored every time he said his name like that, and he pressed down harder on Cas’s legs because he knew he was gonna have to work hard to keep Cas from flipping his shit when he gave him one last flameout.

Dean could see his stomach muscles contracting, could feel him trying to thrust into Dean’s hand, but he couldn’t with Dean sitting on him, and instead he just mindlessly groaned to the ceiling, and Dean leaned forward more, almost protectively over his prey he had in hand, and right— _now_ —

Cas let out a strangled cry when Dean stopped this time, squeezing his sack high and tight and forward, and he had his hand clamped around the base of his cock, and he had Cas this time and they both knew it.

“ _Dean!_ ” he wailed. “Why—”

“You wanna come now?” Dean demanded.

“ _Y-yes_ , why are you _doing_ this—?!”

“‘Cause I can.” Carefully, he flexed his fingers, and Cas jerked helplessly under him but didn’t come. “I’ll finish you—” Dean twisted his hands and Cas made a noise like a sob. “—if you say please.”

And he twisted his hands again and again and Cas howled, “ _Please, please, Dean—!_ ”

That was good enough.

Dean let his balls go and wrapped both hands around cock and jerked him hard and fast, and Cas flew backwards, his hands grabbing at the pillow behind his head, and he arched up off the bed and that had to be the _girliest_ shriek Dean had ever heard him give out, and he’d heard him after he’d been kicked right in the nuts by a nasty bitch of a shape-shifter. Oh, and he was still going, too, and like Mount Vesuvius, blowing his load all over everywhere—but Dean could ignore the thick nasty spurts on his fingers when he was reveling in smug satisfaction that he had just managed to turn Cas, the great stoic in bed, into a screamer. He writhed and twisted and thrashed through the whole thing, and Dean was almost sorry it was over so soon.

Once he let him go, Cas just pretty much collapsed into a pathetic, panting mess, looking half-dead, a fine sheen of sweat across his skin, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips trembling as he struggled to breathe. Dean wrinkled his nose at smears of jizz on his fingers—that was not acceptable. He wasn’t gonna just sit there with that shit all over him and wait for Cas to come down off of his cloud; he slung his legs off of him, walking kinda bow-legged to keep his jeans up, and crossed the room to scrub his hands in the sink.

After that, he zipped up his jeans, staring contemplatively at Cas, who hadn’t moved was still just lying there, panting, his eyes closed. Dean shook his head, reaching over and grabbing a washcloth and getting it damp with warm water before making his way back over to the bed. He climbed in next to Cas and grabbed his limp hand, shoving the rag into it. He just stared stupidly at it at first; it took him a good three seconds to realize what Dean was doing, and Dean snorted and looked off while Cas took care of his own business. It took way, way too long, and when Dean glanced back at him, struggling to clean up, he looked so completely wiped out that Dean was half-tempted to take care of it for him. But no, that was not in the cards, and so he just lay back with his hands folded under his head and stared at the ceiling in satisfaction.

He became aware that all movement had stopped next to him, and he glanced over to see that Cas was just laying there again, his gaze unfocused, the rag in his hand forgotten. Dean took it from him with two fingers and tossed it on the floor (Cas would pick it up later) and scooted closer to him, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow to survey his work.

Cas clearly had no idea what just hit him. Awesome.

“I am so one to say ‘I told you so’.” Dean informed him. “So…I told you so.”

Cas just blinked up at him, swallowing hard. Dean snorted and leaned over, curling his arms around Cas before rolling over onto his back again, taking Cas with him. Cas was like a sack of wet cement, limp and useless, flopping onto Dean, still obviously too dazed to even begin to try and look for the bus that just hit him. Dean played his fingers up and down Cas’s back, Cas’s breath puffing across the bare flesh of his chest. He lay there for what seemed like forever before he finally started moving again, trying to drag himself up so he could get against Dean’s neck, his favorite spot—it was clearly an enormous struggle. Dean took pity on him and pulled him up there a little, tilting his head back.

“Dean,” Cas whispered hoarsely against his throat, “I…how did…”

Dean was smirking so hard now he doubted he’d ever stop during the whole trip. “It’s called ‘teasing,’ Cas.” He flicked an amused look down at the top of his head. “What, you never saw that in any of your porn?” Cas didn’t answer, which was good, ‘cause Dean really didn’t want to know, so he just went on. “Well, it’s a good thing. Obviously. Hard to take when it’s happening, but hey—totally worth it in the end, right?”

“Yes.” He felt Cas swallow again. “Do you…enjoy that?”

“You talkin’ about doing or getting? ‘Cause I like both,” Dean replied.

“I mean…do you want me to…do that to you?”

Dean chuckled. “Cas, you probably just had the trashiest orgasm of your life. What do you think?” He shifted so he was facing Cas on his side, resting his hand on Cas’s ass and savoring how wiped out he still looked. “Seriously. It’s not a race, dude—you’re always in such a hurry to finish. Drawing things out like that makes it last—it’s awesome. So yeah. You can do it.”

He leaned down and kissed Cas just ‘cause, keeping it light and soft, brushing his fingers across his jaw and neck before wrapping his arms around him again and drawing him close while Cas still just went limply wherever Dean pulled him.

_Heh. Poor bastard. He never stood a chance._

**Author's Note:**

> Dean and Cas came to their little compromise in the aside fic "[Pillow Talk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/956334/chapters/1985102)."
> 
> The nasty bitch of a shape-shifter incident is described in the aside fic "[Nutcracker](http://archiveofourown.org/works/956334/chapters/1933930)."


End file.
